YES, AGAIN! Guns Save Life Trades Junk for Cash At Chicago’s Saturday Gun Buyback!

Guns Save Life loves Chicago's gun buybacks.  Three times in the past dozen years or so, the scrappy Illinois gun rights group has sold rusty junk to Chicago's taxpayers, and then used the proceeds to send young people to an NRA gun camp.  Saturday, Guns Save Life pulled it off again.

Yes, we dumped our junk for their perfectly good money deep in the heart of Rahm's Paradise by the Lake.  Not only that, but a Chicago PD sergeant banned me from ever again participating in a gun buyback.

Six years ago, Guns Save Life scored a grand slam at Chicago's then-annual "Don't Kill A Dream, Save A Life" gun "turn-in" event.  Not only did GSL bring home over $6,000, but the delicious irony of using a gun buyback to fund kids to a National Rifle Association Gun Camp brought widespread international publicity to GSL.  At the same time, it gave a major black eye to Mayor Rahm Emmanuel's massive, city-wide gun buy back events.

In fact, GSL's success in 2012 ended the program where the city spent upwards of a million dollars it didn't have to "buy back" something the City never owned.  What's more, the Mayor and his minions claimed the buybacks rid the community of unwanted guns.  Maybe so.

Today, in a scaled back buyback with Chicago offering $100 per gun, no questions asked, GSL returned.  While a supervisor refused to accept all eleven of the guns my pregnant bride and I offered to the program, other intrepid GSL members met with more success.  All told, we came home with quite a haul.  I'm still not done opening envelopes.

The guns we “surrendered”?  Many looked like they came from or before the Prohibition era.   Even the ones didn't require a hammer to open the action may have looked good but they lacked functionality.  Meanwhile others fired now-obsolete cartridges back when they worked.  While the guns we gave them would not shoot, they would make great stick-up guns.  At least until the user stuck up someone with a real gun.

In the end, while I didn't unload all sixty-plus guns carted up to the Windy City, we did well.  Very well.

What I saw

My wife and I showed up right at 10am, when the event opened.  Already dozens of folks stood in line.  At the same time, Chicago police officers milled about in force.  We felt very safe in a marginal neighborhood thanks to Chicago's finest.  A couple of the officers had tac vests that identified them as from the "Superintendent's Office".  One gold star also sat inside.   A neatly-dressed guy's ID labelled him from the press relations or something similar.  I avoided him.

Right out front, I saw this truck (above).  At first I thought it was another gun owner taking advantage of the Windy City largesse.  However, looking at the license plate, I think it belongde to one of the cops.

Interestingly, this was the first Windy City buyback where at least a couple of cops looked skilled handling guns.  In the past, oftentimes the officers looked as skilled at opening various actions as solving a Rubik's Cube.

And right behind the "Salty"-plated pickup sat a CPD squad car… parked right in front of the fire hydrant.

After waiting outside for about twenty minutes (and getting filmed by NBC5 Chicago), I finally got a peek inside.  The cops had everyone sitting in a big room waiting.  And waiting.

The big guy with the brand new LA Police Gear Tactical Pants seemed in charge.  His vest indicated that he too hailed from the Superintendent's Office.   (For what it's worth, 5.11 pants may cost more, but they wear more comfortably.  And your backup piece doesn't bang against your knee if you carry it in the cargo pocket.  Hence why my LAPG pants are now relegated to lawn mowing.)

Most guns turned in, and the people turning them in, were typically quite old seasoned.  Often the guns had as much rust as their owners had grey hair.  Of course, this time I did see some decent guns among the endless parade of revolvers people surrendered.  One, a round-butt Smith & Wesson K-frame looked in really good shape, dropped off by a well-to-do looking African American woman.   Twenty minutes later, a Caucasian couple turned in a bolt-action centerfire rifle in good shape, a second scoped bolt gun possibly a rimfire and a semi-auto Browning Auto 5 or a knockoff.  Any one of those three guns would probably fetch $300 on consignment at any local gun shop.

At the same time, I saw a never-ending string of old revolvers, rusty .22 rifles and break-open, single-shot shotguns.  Someone brought in a Bersa semi-auto in its box.  One person brought about twenty pounds of ammo along with their two handguns.

And meet Sgt. Dickerson, the guy picking up a box full of guns.  Sgt. Dickerson stopped the process when he overheard that I had eleven guns.  He pulled me outside and said, and I quote, "This event is for the neighborhood, not outsiders."

Oh, you mean like white folk aren't wanted or especially welcome?  Remember, he didn't know my name or where I lived.  However, as a white person I'll admit I looked like an outsider in the very poor, African-American neighborhood.

He continued:  "We'll take two of those, but you're gonna have to take the rest back to your car.  Or you can take them all home with you."

So I got my two $100 VISA cards.  As I walked out, I stopped to take a photo of the table where they worked to identify make, model, caliber and serial numbers of the guns turned in.  Sgt. Dickerson didn't like that.

"YOU!  Come with me!" he barked.

We walked outside.  He explained that I could not take photos inside.

I replied:  "But this is a public place and a public event.  Nobody has a reasonable expectation of privacy here."

"No, this is a private event and the people in there don't want their pictures taken," he gruffly shot back at me.

"So what about the TV cameras?" I asked calmly.

"They have permission!  Look.  You cannot come back to one of these ever again.  Don't ever let me catch you coming back again," Sgt. Dickerson said sternly.  I wondered if this is what black folks felt like back when cops explained their local Sundown laws to them.

The look on my face must have expressed my thoughts clearly, or Sgt. Dickerson had ESP.  "Or what?" I thought.

After a pause, he continued:  "If I catch you at one of these events again, you will be turned away."

"You mean like last time when I got turned away because I was white?" I thought to myself.

I tried not to even grin.  "Yes, sir," I said solemnly.  "Am I free to go?"

And he sent me on my way.  He didn't even ask for my name!

Minutes later, after collecting packets of envelopes from my fellow GSL members, the wife and I passed by the front door.  I slowed long enough to thank the officers out front and we drove home.

So, thank you Rahm.  We enjoyed transacting business with you and your minions.  Better still, Mr. Mayor, you can feel good about helping to educate the next generation of gun owners in the Prairie State.